


And The Story's Got Dust On Every Page

by cerie



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Out of the Blue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 10:37:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerie/pseuds/cerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One date at the one restaurant in town that has any culinary merit won’t be such a hardship, will it?  She likes him and he apparently better-than-tolerates her so it should all work out fine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And The Story's Got Dust On Every Page

**Author's Note:**

  * For [windandthestars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/windandthestars/gifts), [convenientmisfires](https://archiveofourown.org/users/convenientmisfires/gifts).



> YET ANOTHER Out of the Blue AU, wherein Helen divorces John and buys a farm and Will is a veterinarian. Written mostly for Lisa and Sam.

Helen thinks that a divorce is as good a reason as any to start over again and instead of holing herself up in her house and painting all hours of the day and night, she leaves the house to John and buys a new one. It’s an old farmhouse with a few acres of workable land, some goats, some beehives and a few chickens. Hardly enough to make a profit but enough for hobby and she thinks it will be a nice change of pace from the misery that had been her life with John in Old City.

It’s only after the ink’s dry on the deed that Helen realizes she’s completely unprepared for this. She knows that she’ll need supplies and she imagines that the local feed store is as good a place as any to start inquiring about hiring some help to get her through until she gets the hang of things. The man behind the counter is tall and imposing but once she admits her dilemma, he’s nothing but helpful.

“Zimmerman ought to be able to help you. Used to be our vet before his mother got sick and he went upside-down. Sure he won’t mind the work.” Helen takes the slip of paper with the man’s number on it and tucks it into her pocket, fully intending the call. The trouble is, Helen often has trouble with talking to people she doesn’t know and doubly so via telephone.

It’s only after she’s certain one of her goats is in labor that she finally calls Zimmerman to come out and help her. This is something she simply cannot manage alone and her fear of losing the creature overrides her fear of something new.

Zimmerman, it seems, is a lanky man in his mid-thirties with a bright smile and soft blue eyes. He has a soothing voice and capable hands and Helen can certainly understand why he was a vet. The animals all seem to love him. Ruby loves him especially, which is good because the labor is difficult and painful and they very nearly lose both goat and kid. Late that night when it seems everyone is stable, she and Zimmerman sit at her kitchen table with steaming cups of black coffee; the world outside is quiet and while there’s no snow on the ground, it’s clear and cold.

“I have to thank you. I know absolutely nothing about farms or about goats giving birth.” Zimmerman laughs and gives her a cheeky grin before covering her hand with his. “Pretty obvious you don’t know anything about kidding, sure, but you knew enough to call me. That’s a step in the right direction.”

Helen narrows her eyes at him for a moment and gets rewarded with that warm smile again and she can’t find it in herself to be angry. Besides, he’s absolutely right.

_***_

Over the next few weeks, Zimmerman spends more time in her house than at his own and Helen finally asks him to move in one morning over coffee and pancakes. While she’s absolutely shit at running a farm, she’s a brilliant cook and since his mornings tend to coincide with her nights they’ve sort of made a tradition of eating breakfast together.

“Excuse me? I mean, I have a place...” Helen shakes her head. She knows that he lives in the basement room rented from an older woman in town and what’s one rented room traded for another? She’d rather have the proximity in case things go wrong, especially since she’s considering buying a horse and a cow at some point over the next few months. She wants to get a better grasp on the goats and chickens at first, certainly, but even Bumble’s (her resident bully) come to like her since Zimmerman came to help out.

“I would rather you were here. If you like, I will include your housing in your pay as well as food. I simply cannot do this without you.” Zimmerman seems a little floored but he nods, promising that he’ll move his things in the next day. It doesn’t turn out to be terribly much and that doesn’t surprise her; gossip around town is that his mother had died after a long and painful battle with cancer and any savings or assets that he’d had went directly to her care. He has little left now.

Helen gives him a room on the opposite end of the house because the last thing she wants is to disturb him with her nocturnal waking patterns only to discover that he, too, suffers insomnia. It’s not uncommon to pass him in the halls or the kitchen late at night and Helen likes the company. She’s spent far too much time alone.

The best part of him being there is that he’s there one night when Helen is gripped by a panic attack, her first in months, and instead of ignoring her or snapping at her the way John might have done, he is soothing and kind instead. He takes her into his arms and breathes with her, gently stroking her hair and rubbing his hands down her bare arms in a repetitive movement that calms her in ways she didn’t know she could be calmed. Once it seems the worst of it has passed, she leans her head back against his shoulder and his arms tighten around her.

“How did you know to do that?” she asks, voice low and a bit rough from her earlier fear. Zimmerman makes a soft noise, non-committal. “I was a vet. Calming a frightened person isn’t really a lot different than calming a frightened horse. Hope that doesn’t offend you?”

Helen laughs and shakes her head. “No, I’m fine with being a prize horse for the moment. When that changes, I’ll let you know, but I’m honest enough with myself to know I have a predilection for the dramatic.”

Helen isn’t sure when they crossed from an employment relationship to a friendship but she’d never change it.

_***_

Summers are hot on the farm even if the winters are bitterly cold and Helen hardly thinks that’s fair at all. She’s used to the rainy, cool summers of Old City and Idaho is far drier and there’s no break from the sun. It’s lovely, though, even if the beauty isn’t something she’s quite gotten a handle on yet. She simply wishes she had water to get her through this long, hot day.

She doesn’t, because something’s gone wrong with her well and Zimmerman’s been kind enough to spend most of the morning trying to fix it. Helen busies herself in the house for most of it until curiosity gets the best of her. Like most things on the farm, she isn’t exactly sure how they work and she supposes she ought to know in case she doesn’t always have live in help.

She is not entirely prepared for the sight of Zimmerman with his shirt off, slicked with sweat and doing something or other to the well. He brushes his hand back against his face and Helen simply stops thinking for a moment and just _watches_. She’s never been the sort to stare but she’d been completely unprepared to see him quite like this.

They are friends, close friends, but she doesn’t think she’s ever thought about him quite like this before now. It’s base and ridiculous, especially considering the disparity in their ages, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, will it? She doesn’t really get a chance to mull it over further because he’s turned around and caught her staring; his response is a slow, cocksure grin. She both loves and loathes him right now.

“It’s the pump. I’ve replaced it,” he says and Helen nods mutely. She wishes she had something to do with her hands but instead they fidget before dropping stiffly to her sides. She’s just glad she hasn’t crossed the few feet between them and run them all over his bare chest. That might go really well for her if she never wants to show her face outside her bedroom ever again.

“How...how much do I owe you? It’s not exactly in your employment description.” Zimmerman laughs and closes the distance between them and when he draws close, he drops his Stetson on her head. 

“Careful, Helen. Fair as you are, you’re gonna fry. And you don’t owe me anything except maybe something cold to drink and something to eat.” He tilts his head a bit, seemingly considering, and one corner of his mouth turns up in a little smirk. “And a kiss. Yeah, I think I’m gonna need a kiss.”

Helen has been thinking about that exact thing but she didn’t want to say it _out loud_. She’s trying to think of a way to delicately say no and spare herself some embarrassment but in the interim, Zimmerman closes the gap and presses his mouth to hers in a kiss. It’s tentative at first but when Helen parts her lips beneath his, he threads his hand in her hair and cups the back of her neck before deepening it, pressing every lean inch of his body against hers. Helen whimpers in the back of her throat and her hands roam over his bare shoulders and chest before finally sliding down to cup his ass over a pair of well-worn (and incredibly well-fitting) jeans.

“Hey, now, you’ve got to ask me to dinner first,” Zimmerman murmurs, pulling away only enough to whisper the words against the soft skin of her cheek. Helen draws her hands away and the apologies spill over her lips without so much as a break to breathe. She’s never been this ridiculous with anyone, much less someone she cares about as deeply as Zimmerman and the fact that she let some ridiculous romantic trope get to her vexes her to no end.

“Stop apologizing and uh...ask me out? I absolutely want to go out with you.”

Oh. Well then.

“All right, you’ve won. We’ll have a date. I’ll cook?”

Zimmerman shakes his head. “Nope, got to be a real date. We have to go into town and everything for it.” Helen hadn’t expected this particular variation on the scene that’s been running a loop in her head and she nods. One date at the one restaurant in town that has any culinary merit won’t be such a hardship, will it? She likes him and he apparently better-than-tolerates her so it should all work out fine.

_***_

The date gets cancelled approximately four times in as many weeks due to any number of emergencies involving chickens, goats, a new horse and, on one particularly memorable evening, John Druitt himself.

Helen hadn’t been aware that John had her new address but he’d shown up earlier that day in a sleek black Mercedes bearing what looked like their divorce papers. Helen had signed them and wondered when she’d actually be getting her decree of divorce but it turns out that she’s not actually divorced. John, it seems, is contesting it yet again and has refused to sign until she signs over yet another concession to him financially. Helen refuses to do it. She’s given and given and she refuses to do it again.

“Just sign the damn papers, Helen,” John hisses, pinning her between the car and his body. Zimmerman’s around, just out in the barn with the goats, and Helen winces when she hears his voice ring out across the yard. 

“So, I’m thinking you should probably leave her alone before I call the cops. I can’t take you and I’m not stupid enough to try but if you want four or five guys down here loaded for bear, be my guest. They tend to shoot first and ask questions later around here.” Helen thinks it’s a ridiculous display of machismo on both sides but John relents, pulling away from her, and he slams the divorce papers down on the hood of his car before signing them with his bold, slanted signature.

Helen doesn’t start shaking until after John leaves and as the sun goes down and it gets cooler outside, Zimmerman wraps his arms around her and kisses her hair softly. It’s beautiful tonight with a autumn breeze stirring her hair and the sky inky black and dotted with stars. She thinks that as much as she occasionally misses the city and the cosmopolitan life that she had there’s something simple and rewarding about being here now. It’s solace to her weary soul and a balm to a wounded heart.

_***_

They finally manage a date on a cold December night two weeks before Christmas. The town’s done up in fairy lights and jingle bells and while it’s all a bit camp, Helen loves every second of it. She and Zimmerman have a casual supper at a restaurant called The Mermaid before watching children go caroling until it’s too cold and snowy for even the most intrepid youngsters to stay out. They make their way back to the farm and sit in Zimmerman’s truck for a few moments, just watching the snow come down while they hold hands.

“There’s something peaceful about it, isn’t there? How quiet the world is during a first snowfall?” Zimmerman nods and turns, catching her mouth in a slow, passionate kiss. Helen wants to be much, much closer than the gearshift allows her and after shifting this way and that she manages to only get a few inches closer and blow the horn with her elbow for good measure. They both laugh, though hers is _technically_ a giggle, and make the executive decision to run inside and continue this somewhere much more conducive to being playful.

Zimmerman busies himself with building up a fire while Helen strips off her jeans and sweater and stands before him without anything between his hands and her skin. She’s a bit nervous about this and her tongue sneaks out to brush against her lower lip as she takes in his reaction to her. Zimmerman whistles lowly and strips his clothes so fast that he seems almost a blur; clothes are hardly important when there are other things to be done with mouths and hands. He backs her up against the bed and presses her down, legs tangling with hers just as his mouth and hers collide. It’s heated and rushed and just a matter of a fewmoreinches before they’re actually together, his cock hot and heavy against her thigh. Helen manages to extricate herself long enough to pluck a condom from the bedside table and hands it to him, getting a nervous chuckle from Zimmerman in response; at least one of them is thinking ahead this evening.

Zimmerman takes the break in the moment to fix his mouth against one of her breasts, laving the nipple with his tongue before nipping at it lightly and then soothing again. The juxtaposition of hot, wet and sweet with just a hint of pain drives her higher and higher and by the time he moves from her left breast to her right, she’s panting and curling her nails against the muscles in his shoulder and back. She’d feel bad about this except the part where he’s driving her insane and Zimmerman’s a smart man who can take a hint; he guides his cock into her without much more preamble.

Helen lets her thighs splay open wide as he settles in her and once he’s in fully, Zimmerman sucks in a sharp breath and just rests there for a moment. When he starts to move, it’s achingly slow, and Helen rolls her hips up in tandem with his thrusts. The angle is awkward but she manages to work a hand between them so she can pinch and roll her own nipple before sliding it down lower, teasing at her clit and where they join as he moves in and out. It would be easier if she were on top and she considers rolling them only to decide this is better because she can’t get there as fast. She’s frustratingly close, only a moment or two from reaching orgasm, and when she finally comes she lets out a sharp little cry that is much different than her usual silence in bed.

He does roll them then, letting her ride him while he finishes and his hands are heavy on her hips as she slides up and down. He’s hitting her over and over in the most delicious place and Helen almost thinks she might come again when Zimmerman does, gripping her hips tightly and thrusting up into her with more force than he’s used before now. Helen lets out a slow breath as she lets him slip out of her and instead of moving away, she pillows her head on his chest and curls against his side.

“I think I might love you, Will.” 

He doesn’t respond, only kisses her again and Helen likes to think that he’s saying he loves her back over and over again.


End file.
